


Like a Centurion

by tosca1390



Category: West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-10
Updated: 2011-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seriously, go away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Centurion

**Author's Note:**

> A post-ep for _In the Shadow of Two Gunman, Part II_. Written for West Wing Secret Santa at LiveJournal for shutterbug12.

Four days after Josh had woken up and asked “what’s next?”, Donna was stationed at his bedside like a centurion, as she had been for nearly three days now.

“Seriously, go away,” Josh mumbled, clicking the morphine drip. Breathing made his chest stretch and tug; he tried not to breathe very deeply and therefore felt a little light-headed whenever he was awake.

“It only works the first time you click it, you idiot,” Donna said, bringing him a plastic cup of water. “Sip.”

When she set the straw between his lips, he drank gingerly, the water cool against his scratchy throat. “Really, Donna, you look terrible.”

She fixed him with a harsh glare, even more striking with the dark shading under her eyes, the fairer-than-usual pallor of her face. He immediately shrank into his pillows, blinking against the weirdly white fluorescent lights. “Not terrible. Never terrible,” he amended, sighing as the morphine began to slip into his system.

“If I leave, everyone will come in at once and overload your already delicate system. Besides, you’ll probably fall out of bed or something. You’re a mess, Josh,” she said evenly, face set.

The morphine fuzzed and smoothed out the ragged edges of his pain. He watched Donna fuss around the room, head lolling to the side. She hadn’t cracked once since he’d woken up three days ago and found her hounding Sam and CJ out of his room; she’d been the same old Donna, and it was a relief he hadn’t even known to look for.

But from what the nurses had let slip, she’d only left the hospital twice. He was beginning to feel the creeping of guilt, even in his drug-induced state; with the drugs, his tongue was harder to corral, and he didn’t want to slip up with Donna, not now.

“Please go home,” he said finally, his voice very quiet. The drugs made him drowsy; he looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “At least to eat. Or shower. Or sleep. Feed that devil cat of your roommate’s.”

Donna crossed her arms defiantly. “Josh, I swear—“

“Please, Donna. I promise, I won’t let anyone in. It’ll be like the Berlin Wall. You can have your post back later. But you gotta leave the hospital premises, or I’ll fire you,” he muttered.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Go ahead and try.”

“Donna—“

“Okay,” she said abruptly, her gaze very careful on him. It made him anxious, like he wanted to flush, or buy her dinner. But that was just the drugs talking, he was sure. “I’ll be back later. The nurses have my number, so if you need anything, they can reach me.”

It took another ten minutes, and another round of protests, but Donna finally left his room. Josh settled uneasily into his bed, eyes flitting from the television (on silent, as per Donna’s demand) to the window, where he could see evening falling across Washington. CJ had already put the lid on for the evening; the press had been soft on her for the last few days, due to the shooting, and Josh couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

“Still kicking?”

Josh turned his face to the doorway. Danny Concannon stood there, notebook-less and paler than usual. “To the disbelief of all,” Josh said, shifting up stiffly.

“And the mourning of half of Congress,” Danny said lightly, stepping inside the room and shutting the door. “Where’s your gatekeeper?”

Josh laughed shortly, his chest aching with the movement. “Donna went home for a little while.”

“Did the Secret Service have to pry her off?”

“It was a near thing,” Josh said, eyeing Danny carefully. “What’s going on?”

Danny stuffed his hands in his trousers pockets. “CJ said she was coming over to see you.”

“Ah,” Josh said with a smirk, morphine curling lazily through his veins. “Get her another fish?”

“Shut up,” Danny said, rolling his eyes. “I wanted to catch her. Had some questions about the briefing.”

Josh’s fingers slipped over the smooth clicker in his hand. “Are you on the record right now?”

Danny shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

Josh wet his lips and glanced towards the blankets. Danny here, seeing him like this, made him think of Illinois, of running right smack into Danny on his way out of the hotel to O’Hare, his mind only registering one thing: _Josh, your father died_. Danny had flagged him a cab, and never written a word about it. Sam and Laurie had been basically passed over by the _Post_ ; the memo was newsworthy, and Josh couldn’t blame him for that. In short, the guy was stand-up, and sometimes Josh thought CJ was nuts, for letting him slip away.

Not that he’d ever tell her that. He liked being able to breathe and have sex (not that he had it often, with his hours), thank you very much.

“You all right, Josh?”

Josh curled his fingers over the clicker and pressed once more, looking off past Danny’s shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks, Danny.”

“Good,” Danny said with a nod. “Because—and don’t tell her I said so—but CJ was worried sick about you. Really.”

His mouth went dry, and Josh sighed silently. He’d seen them all in the last few days, just snatches of time, of faces. Toby was drawn, a little desperate around the eyes; Sam looked fine, held together, but there was something scared in his gaze every time he came to see him, like Josh wouldn’t be here the next time; and CJ, she joked and scolded, but her fingers went to her necklace, the scratch on her neck, and he knew her terror.

It was odd, because Josh couldn’t remember nearly anything past the searing pain, the slick thick blood through his fingers, and Toby hollering for a doctor. He knew how bad his injuries were, of course, but when his friends—this _family_ of his looked at him, he wondered how horrible it really had been.

“At least now I know they can’t manage without me,” Josh said finally, a little woozy.

Danny grinned. “Yeah, you bet. I’ll go wait for her in the hall.”

“You should buy her another fish,” Josh murmured. His eyes were heavy, threatening sleep.

“Good idea. I’ll get on that.” Danny went to the door. “Glad you’re okay.”

Josh shut his eyes as the door opened and closed gently. His sleep was blissfully blank.

*


End file.
